Memories of the Dead
by MorphineGun12
Summary: No-one really understands why he's obsessed over it...or why he takes it more easily than others. But really, Rafael has learned to accept it, Death always has its ways, and to him, its like an old friend...or sometimes an enemy he can't fight within himself, and the demons that haunt him when Death visits… Mexico OC one-shot


**A/N: So, I wrote this when I was, as usual thinking about death (not weird at all), and then I thought of Dia de Los Muertos or Day of the Dead, and this made me think of Rafael, suddenly—BAM! This happened. I hope you guys like it! ˆ.ˆ**

Anyone would run away from the sight the boy was facing. The skeleton dressed in a fancy high-class gown, her feathered boa hanging loosely around the neck and the elaborately decorated hat was tilted to the side of the skeleton's skull.

But he always wondered: who would run at such a beautiful sight?

It was rare to see her, usually she only came for a quick visit and even then, Rafael felt a nostalgic wound, one that wouldn't go away no matter what he did—and seeing her, it made that wound open up more.

"What bothers you?" she asked, her voice calm and gentle, almost as if he was listening to a lullaby. She could feel his sadness despite his smile; it was clear in his chocolate-colored eyes.

"_Nada_," the representation of North Mexico shook his head, his black locks falling in his eyes, "I was just thinking." The skeleton smiled, well, Catrina was always smiling, but with or without one, she could still feel the wound inside the nation's soul. Rafael felt a cold shot running up his hand when Catrina held it, her bony white fingers contrasting against his skin. Anyone in their right mind would pull away, but not him, he knew her, he wasn't afraid of the elegant skeleton or the power that she held…she was an old friend, and he couldn't be more than happy for her to be there with him.

"Rafa, _mirame_," the nation looked up at her, "you of all people…you know me, to the very bones. It hurts to see you suffer like this, even when Aztec was alive, you still took things at heart too much."

It wasn't a bad thing, Rafael and Manuel have known Death since they were born, they learned to live with her, but in reality, he was far more sensible than his brother. No matter what everyone else thought, how strong or stubborn they thought he was—Rafael Fernandez-Hidalgo was easy to break—if they knew where to strike.

Seeing Catrina was like seeing a flashback, a story playing in her dark sockets, every person Rafael knew or met…they were always there. A smile, a glare, or simply people passing by, he knew they would be gone and he would still be among them like a never-ending film.

"_No es eso_," the young nation took the skeleton's hand in his own, "it's always the usual; a country's main problem…we get tired of living too much. Didn't Aztec ever tell you that?" she placed the feathered boa back around her neck to keep it from falling and brushed Rafael's hair from his eyes. It was this side of him that made her feel exactly what she was—dead. Often she dreaded visiting him just for the sheer fact that she would bring back the memories of what he and Manuel had gone through.

He looked at her again, the same flashbacks playing…Aztec Empire smiling at him and Manuel, chocolate eyes shining with pride at the two young nations. A frightened four-year-old Rafael watching over Spain's shoulders as he and his little brother were taken away from a burning city, their father lying somewhere in one of the burning temples.  
Next came Miguel Hidalgo, a great man, he was like a father to Rafael and Manuel, a teacher—reason why they took his last name as an honor when Hidalgo got shot with others for treason against the Spanish crown.

Every memory burned against the nation's pounding skull, but he couldn't look away from the dark eye sockets of Catrina.

"Rafa?" the skeleton's voice broke his trance and suddenly Rafael threw himself at her, hugging her tightly, careful not to break his precious friend's bones. Silent tears fell from his cheeks but no sound came out of the representation of North Mexico. Even at a moment like this, he refused to show he was weak; he refused to let people see him like this—except Catrina, of course.

"_Lo siento_, I just…so much to think about, sometimes I wish…" great, he couldn't even talk right now. Catrina put a finger to his lips to silence him, she shook her head and this time, Rafael knew for sure she was smiling.

"I understand, so much it's impossible, but I do," she cupped his face, his chocolate brown eyes never leaving her sight. "Just know that you've made _everyone_ proud, _mi pequeño_, everyone that has had the honor of crossing you and your brother's path." She turned to look at the offering altar in the corner of the dark, candle-lit room, flowers and food placed around a portrait of Hidalgo, an obsidian knife in honor of Aztec Empire, and many more things set out for the dead. Catrina walked towards it, her fingers feeling the soft texture of the flowers.

"You have to go now, don't you?" despite the sadness she brought, he still dreaded her to leave.

"You know I have to, I never rest, my job is as endless as your life," she picked a flower and put it on her hat, walking past him again and into the doorway that lead to the small garden outside in the cool, dark November night. "But I will let them know that you both miss them, they will never forget you, not as long as you and I are around." And he smiled, his usually serious expression softened as she faded away into the darkness of the garden and the light soon returned to the room. The door behind him opened, and Manuel walked in holding a tray of food.

"Aren't you coming? We were going to offer food on Villa's grave, remember?" his younger brother raised an eyebrow and waited for his brother to respond.

"Yeah, I'll be right with you," he looked back at the garden and then followed Manuel out.


End file.
